Silver and Gold
by hallythelantern
Summary: Parisians everywhere are speculating about the nature of the mysterious silver light that keeps popping up everywhere when, one day, Marinette meets an emotionally unstable Chat Noir. After a traumatic encounter with the superhero, she resolves to help him with his problems. Neither of them knew or could have guessed, however, that this was the start of something bigger for the two
1. Silver Light

Chat had been vaulting across the city, reaching great heights and falling back down and repeating the act over and over again when a devious idea sprouted from his mind.

He had had a photo shoot not too long ago, which had ended rather quickly but contained none of the mirths that usually came whenever he was allowed to break his intended schedule and have an unplanned respite from the average day of being the son of a famous fashion designer. Instead, he felt… empty.

Despite this, or perhaps because of this feeling, he had transformed into the leather-clad superhero bad-boy (as he liked to believe himself as) Chat Noir to get a breath of fresh air.

Had a person seen the skies at this moment, they would have thought that it was a daredevil raven or any other bird with black wings that was testing the limits of his flight. Of course, he was not a bird but a wannabe one.

Whether or not this metaphor applied to the leather-clad hero, however, was up for debate.

And now, he came up with an idea that could test the limits to the utmost extreme.

With a cocky and self-satisfied smirk, Chat planted his staff on the ground as he extended the stick upwards. He saw clouds passing him by, the blue sky becoming increasingly bluer. He saw the sun getting closer and closer to him.

The thought filled him with glee.

He extended and extended and extended… until he didn't.

Slightly annoyed by the sudden lack of movement yet not willing that get to him, the superhero raised his hands up, wanting to grab something - anything.

He didn't know why he did this, but he had long learned not to question his gut feelings. They usually led him to the right ways, and overthinking things just made the experiences much more miserable.

But he soon forgot about his own advice as he thought about trying to grab the sun, yet held back. _That is preposterous,_ he chastised himself. Because even though the ball of heat had fascinated him to no ends ever since he was in diapers, he knew he was insufferably and irrevocably far from actually being in its proximity. And now, he wasn't a kid. Trying to delude himself into thinking that he could have the sun in his fingertips was for little kids who knew little about the world, not teenagers who had had experiences that some in their fifties wouldn't experience.

 _It's for the best,_ he thought with a bitter taste in his mouth. If he was to get close to the sun, after all, he would be scorched to heaven.

So he tried to grab something more… _accessible_. With another try of the hand, he managed to fist a tiny amount of clouds inside his hands. Or, at least, he saw that he had. His gloved claws didn't feel any different from they did before, but with a certain gleam in his eyes that was confident he had carried out his objective to completion, he looked at his prized fist with an unrestrained smile. He opened it, expecting the world, a change, a warm giddiness. Something - anything. It did not matter what. It was probably better than what he had. Whatever it was, he would be perfectly content with it and would cherish it as one of his few dear memories in a childhood gone terribly wrong.

But when he opened his prized possession, he was faced with… _nothing_.

Of course, he thought bitterly. Of course it would! What had he been _thinking_? He ducked his neck and huffed disappointment from his nose. This - this was _stupid_. He was no longer five; he was _fifteen_ , for god's sake!

He looked down at the busy city underneath. What used to be buildings of all different shapes and sizes now all looked the same: all rectangular and grey. There were some things moving on the streets, which he guessed were cars, that should have been a nice refreshment from the dull monotony of it all.

However, it wasn't; it was just another kind of monotony: they all uniformly trod along like ants in a single file line. The colors and size were not that different from ants, either. The motion made it so that differences in color were not caught with his eyes, making the entire experience as unpleasant as possible. It brought a foul taste in Chat's mouth, and he forced his tongue out in a show of disgust.

He hated it.

* * *

But however dreadful his first experience in the clouds had been, Chat couldn't find himself to stop going up there as much as it was humanly possible. Whenever he wasn't out patrolling with Ladybug, he always - somehow, he didn't know why or how - was among the clouds, his head never looking down in fear of a repeat like last time. He hated the ground, and so stayed as far away from and avoided looking at it for the longest time possible.

It wasn't that he was _afraid_ of heights, per say. How could he be, as a superhero? But something about looking down at the suffocatingly dull city just rubbed off on him in the wrong way and made him want to clench his fists. He _never_ wanted to see that _ever again_. But he was addicted to being in the sky and among the clouds. Therefore, to resolve his conflict, he delusionally shut his eyes from the world whenever he had to come down, only opening them when he felt his boots clack on the ground.

It only took a couple of days for Parisians to wonder about the "silver light" that led upwards to the heavens. Because Chat Noir always extended them in dark alleyways and places that were, in general, hidden from view unless one specifically set his mind to find it, it appeared to many Parisians as if a silver metal had just appeared on the sky one day. Gossips and many theories were exchanged among hushed whispers, some saying that it was the work of Hawkmoth's latest akuma, while some were convinced that the silver light was actually connected to the heavens. Angels used the magical metal to descend down to Earth, they would say. Others thought that it was the signal for an apocalypse.

However, as the silver light seemed to do no harm nor good to the people of Paris except garner new theories for fervent discussion among friends, none of it was actually taken seriously by most of the inhabitants of the city of love. The only reason why the silver light was talked with such interest in many social circles, in fact, was due to the nature of its locations; so far, all lights were evenly spread throughout the city without any set pattern. Many people talked excitedly about where the next ray of light could possibly be at, and some even dared others to touch it if they came into contact with the light.

However, when a week had passed and someone had posted a video of a black blob on top of an expanding silver light, it had sent the people of Paris into a frenzy. Some talked with excitement, some with dread, as they pondered what the black entity could be. Was it the devil? Was it an evil spirit? Was it a ghost? Or was it just a black object? If so, what was the purpose of that object?

Some entered discussions on the nature of the light itself. Many people had thought that it had come from the heavens, which had turned out to be far from the truth. Therefore, the questions of whether it was a benevolent or a malevolent influence was highly discussed among the locals, and the light was regarded with a sort of odd, frightened fascination among the people of Paris. A few lucky souls would find the source of the light in dark corners of the city, and a few of the reckless would even dare touch it.

"It was smooth," the reckless would say. "It feels exactly like metal."

The internet exploded with such discoveries, and countless theories were made and revised with each new information.

* * *

Such was why Marinette Dupain-Cheng was here at one of the most dangerous alleys in the streets of Paris: her best friend, Alya, had dragged the poor bluenette into the frenzy, and she had yet to find a way out.

It wasn't that she didn't _appreciate_ Alya's efforts. No, of course not. It was more that, as Ladybug, she knew that this… _whatever it was_ was ultimately harmless. Thus, she didn't see the whole point in fussing. As Ladybug, Marinette had even given an interview about the mysterious new urban legend. She had said that the light seemed to be of no inconvenience and that she was certain that it wasn't Hawkmoth's akumas. She didn't know why or how she knew, but she had to trust her gut for this. There was nothing else to trust.

But as Ladybug had not given a clear and decisive answer as to what the silver metal was and why it was there in the first place, Alya - bless and curse her overly curious mind - had taken it upon herself to investigate the mystery for herself.

As a result, Marinette was now face to face (or stick?) with the thing that had started it all, smiling defeatedly at Alya, who was jumping up and down with a sense of morbid fascination with whatever it was that was in front of her.

"Be careful, Alya," Marinette said for what was likely to be the millionth time. This neighborhood was bad news and from her peripheral vision, she could see broken windows and moldy walls. The yelling that constantly occurred did not help much either in soothing her nerves, and she was thus constantly on guard.

This-this was _definitely_ outside of her comfort zone, but Alya had been too excited about the prospect of finding out more about the mysterious silver light that the blogger had yet to see the designer's face for the past hour and a half that they had been scavenging for the urban legend. Fortunately, the appearance of the mysterious metal was in a sunny afternoon today, which meant that they didn't have to cower in fear for every second they were in the streets of the most dangerous part of Paris. If it had been at night, Marinette may have just transformed into Ladybug the moment she stepped in this dangerous part of Paris and keep an eye out for Alya. It would have disappointed her best friend, of course, because it would look as if Marinette had flaked on her - _again_. But her best friend's safety was more important than whether or not she liked her, and so if Marinette were to ever be in such a position, the answer would be obvious.

Marinette looked back at her best friend to see what she was up to. They had only talked about finding the silver light, after all, and had not talked about what to do after they had found it. It was one of those things that made Marinette simultaneously grateful for and want to curse Alya for her spontaneity.

And now, Marinette noticed that Alya was relaxed.

 _Too_ relaxed.

"It's fine, girl," Alya chuckled, evidently seeing her face. Alya's red hair bounced as she turned her neck towards Marinette's vicinity. "Can you believe the luck!" Alya said, pumping her fists up and down, looking as if she could spring anywhere at any moment. "We are seeing the mysterious light-metal in _person_!" She squealed from excitement for a few seconds, which brought a smile to Marinette's lips,

However, the blatant excitement was short-lived; after that brief session of unrestrained gushing, Alya took a deep breath, collecting herself.

Marinette was now witnessing reporter Alya in place of the fangirling Alya that had been there a few moments ago. With her phone out, armed and ready, Alya looked as if she could tackle the world.

"Hey peeps!" Alya began talking to the phone, "We are _right here_ at the sight of the crime: the light-metal-thingy of the legends!" one could practically hear her excitement through the phone. Marinette muffled her chuckles, as that would have garnered her a stink eye from her best friend. Blogging Alya was a scary Alya, and Blogging Alya hated poor sound quality. Marinette meant this in as many friendly definitions of the word scary as possible (Marinette still hadn't forgotten about when Alya had been almost sacrificed for Queen Nefertiti; that still gave her nightmares.).

"Except for the sheer length of the metal," Alya said, circling around the current hot topic at hand, "it seems that there are not that many special features," she squatted to give the camera a good view of the bottom. The ground had a perfectly spherical opening where the staff was lodged in snugly. The staff had a tint of blue with a small green line going across near the bottom.

It was bizarrely familiar to Marinette for reasons she didn't know.

And something about the metal made her want to _know_. Maybe it was whispering to her or something, or maybe her curiosity and delusion created from that excited curiosity were getting to her.

Before she knew it, she had spread out her fingers to grip the stick.

 _It was as they said,_ Marinette thought. _It feels like metal. Probably because it is one. Definitely not something from the divine._ But it felt strangely familiar too, for reasons unfathomable to her.

"Ooh!" the Ladyblogger exclaimed to Marinette. "Yes girl! Work it! Feeling adventurous today, yes?"

But the bluenette did not hear her friend, as she was too lost in her strange world that was full of already familiar yet unfamiliar sensations.

 _This is so weird,_ Marinette concluded after such a momentous moment of déjà vu.

"How does it feel?" Alya asked.

That snapped her out of her thoughts.

Marinette's neck whipped to Alya so suddenly that her pigtails slapped her neck. The pain was definitely there, but that was not the main issue right here, and so the designer shrugged a response. "Feels just like any metal. I don't think it has anything to do with angels or whatnot. It's harmless, Alya."

Alya frowned. "I know, girl. But what does it _actually_ feel like?" she said, once again animated.

"Why don't you check it out yourself?" she said smiling, as she stepped aside to let her best friend get the best access of… a _stick_. God, she was crazy.

As Alya gushed about the metal for who knows how long, Marinette speculated on why the object had felt so familiar.

The search was unsuccessful.

Maybe her gut senses weren't as strong anymore, she decided.

* * *

Two weeks passed without any new information, but Ladybug couldn't help but feel that Chat Noir was a little… _off_. He still flirted with her and made puns, yes, but a part of him seemed _absent_.

But maybe she was wrong.

She likely was.

She hoped she was.

* * *

Marinette's stride pounded on the footsteps of the moonlit floor, voicing excitement and nervousness. Clutching her sketchbook, she pressed it closer to her heart. She guarded it with the kind of vulnerability that belied yet simultaneously revealed just how strong she was, depending on the person who was witnessing the action.

Criminals nearby falsely regarded this as a sign of weakness and licked their lips in anticipation. This was going to be a good feast.

Of course, Marinette was not dumb nor stupid. As soon as the criminals dared think to even _envelop_ her in a cocoon of darkness, Marinette opened her purse and kept her eyes moving, darting this way and that for the number of criminals that were circling her. _Seven… no, Eight._

Tikki occasionally peeked out of the bag, covering the arena where Marinette could not look without allowing an opening. She told of two more that were at her back. The kwami relayed the information to Marinette with a silent gleam in her eyes.

They were safe, at least temporarily.

A couple of minutes passed in relative silence, but those deafening moments did not alleviate nor assuage the wariness and anxiety that Marinette felt. She even wished that the criminals would come out right now so that she could get it done and over with, but that was suicide. She wasn't Ladybug right now; she was Marinette, and Marinette needed time and a place to transform into Ladybug.

She walked faster and faster without making it seem like she was running away from something, probably because she wasn't. She looked for any spaces she could hide to transform.

They probably thought that she was a fragile and harmless young girl, she reasoned, chuckling to herself.

They couldn't have been more wrong.

The criminals were now within one hundred meters of where she was, and if they decided to attack the collégienne, it would have been now. Fortunately, she found a dark hallway that could be used for her to transform just that moment and she almost skipped with joy at the sight. Even the terrible stench from the dumpster did not dampen her mood.

"Okay," she sighed to herself. She heard boots clanking to the ground not far from her, which made her heart beat even more rapid. They were here. "Tikki," she whispered. "Spots o-"

"Marinette?" A voice asked from the direction of the previous sound.

Marinette faltered, the ground becoming closer to her face. How did they know her name?! Oh god, this was going to be tougher than she thought. Maybe they might know where she lived, and come to kidnap her and try to ransom her parents for money, and they wouldn't be able to find her so she would have to transform into Ladybug, and…

She wailed her hands as she tried to gain balance again, curling her toes and biting her lips as she braced herself for the fall.

Black leather replaced concrete. _What?_

"Are you okay?" a familiar voice said gently. Which was weird, because she didn't think she knew any criminals personally.

Marinette opened her eyes slowly, making her way up from where her hands were to where the face was. She could make out an outline of a mask, and she would have known those eyes anywhere.

"Chat Noir?" she asked incredulously. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" He asked in return. "It's one in the morning," she heard the frown on his face. "You should be in bed, sleeping."

Great. Just great.

"I was working on some designs," she replied. "And I got… carried away," she averted her eyes from him. She hugged the sketchbook in her hand closer.

Chat Noir sighed. "You are aware that this is one of the more dangerous parts of the city?"

"Inspiration does not discriminate."

He frowned.

"And what are _you_ doing here?"

"Superhero work," he said smoothly, but his heart was not in the answer.

She raised a brow. "In a dark corner of the street? Next to the foul-smelling dumpster?" She said, pointing to the wall at the front and then shifting her hand rightward.

"Of course," he replied. "Why wouldn't I?"

She frowned. "I don't know," Marinette crossed her arms and tilted her head in a questioning gaze, clearly not buying his excuses. "This is the exact opposite of fighting akumas, don't you think? Doesn't have much of the glamor, either."

"I was out on my patrol and thought that I should go to the more often… _unvisited_ places in the city."

It would have made sense to ordinary civilians, Marinette reasoned, but she didn't buy it. Ladybug knew that Chat Noir wasn't patrolling tonight.

However, _Marinette_ didn't know that - wasn't _supposed_ to know that. As much as she did not appreciate him lying to her, she had to pretend.

"Oh!" she said, voice a bit too high and squeaky to sound genuine. "Okay. That makes _so_ much sense."

God, she was terrible at this.

She should have been more experienced from the full year and a half ever since she became Ladybug, but acting was not her forte. Luckily, Chat Noir didn't seem to pick up on anything strange. "Sorry for doubting you," she said as an afterthought.

Chat Noir looked at her, confused. "No problem," he said with a smile on his lips. "Maybe I should take you home-"

His voice was ceased to a halt by the footsteps that came from all directions from the dark corner of where they were. Everywhere, that is, except behind them: two human figures jumped from the wall behind them with a smug grin on their faces.

Dark shadows with human-like proportions crept closer and closer to the two in a slow gait.

Marinette pulled away from him with a strong expression on her face.

A sound of laughter came from the direction which Marinette had come from.

Marinette clenched her fists. "What do you want?" she scowled.

The laughter soon turned into a sinister chuckle. "Feisty, are you?" he said with a mocking tone in his voice, the light hitting the back of his hair. He probably thought that she was faking her confidence.

Well, if it had been any other girl, it would have, but Marinette was Ladybug. And she had her partner by her side.

They didn't know it yet, but she had already won this fight.

Chat Noir... _growled_?

"Leave us alone," he said. She turned to see his face but she could see nothing with the darkness.

The chuckles only turned into full-blown laughter. "How nice of you to lead us to your boyfriend, missy."

 _He's not my boyfriend,_ Marinette thought with irritation, but that wasn't the problem at the moment.

She heard Chat Noir take a few steps towards the sinister voice. "I wouldn't do this if I were you," he threatened.

"Oh. I _would_." With those words, the footsteps that had been a slow gait all broke into a run.

The fight was on.

Marinette grabbed forearms to ram the body into new shadows and ducked blows. Most of the attacks were deflected by Chat Noir, however, and so she was rarely needed to fight on her own, but she had to occasionally defend herself due to the sheer number of criminals there were.

She cursed the darkness. She had to constantly be on the lookout for enemies that may or may not be within arm's reach of her, and when she spotted a shadow or a difference in the flow of air, she only reacted mostly from instinct and gut feelings. Had she not been battling akumas for more than a year, she would have definitely been knocked out unconscious already.

One by one, bodies fell to the ground. And they were not Marinette nor Chat Noir.

When she had managed to catch a breath, she found the man with the sinister laughter now reduced to a cowering, blubbering mess. His eyes were dilated and mouth wide open from shock, and his hands began trembling.

"C...Chat Noir?!"

The superhero only growled in response.

"I…" he took a step backward. And then another. And another. "Forgive me!" the criminal said, voice trembling, still taking steps back. "I didn't know that you...you…" his fingers were shivering.

"No," he said with an unexpected coldness in his voice. It sent shivers down Marinette's spine. "I won't."

At the words, the man shrieked and broke into a run. Marinette saw Chat Noir catch up with him easily. The superhero grabbed him by the end of the man's collar and looked at the man with… _hatred_ in his face.

She hadn't even known that he could even _have_ such an expression on his face.

Chat Noir scowled, gripping the staff on his right hand in anger. The man cowered in fear.

The superhero, after glaring at the criminal for what seemed like forever to Marinette, threw him to the wall nearby. The body crashed into the wall.

Marinette saw Chat Noir in his seething fury slowly walk towards the groaning man. The hero gripped his staff even tighter, she noticed.

She almost screamed when Chat Noir planted the staff onto the groaning man's stomach. The man would have let out a cry of pain if the pain hadn't been as painful as it was. What made it even worse was that the moonlight illuminated every pain in his face, every corner of the man's body. Meanwhile, Chat Noir was hidden from the light in everything _except_ for his face, which was still in that seething anger. It _radiated_ hatred.

She snapped out of her horrified and frozen astonishment when she heard the criminal let out a scream of agony. But instead of retracting the staff, Chat Noir dug it even deeper into the stomach of the man with a twisted smile on his face. He… _reveled_ in the person's pain and suffering.

It made her sick to her stomach.

"Leave _me alone_ ," the sound came out as a growl.

At the sound, Marinette broke into a run, tears of fright running down her cheeks and those of blood running down her lips. She gripped the hands holding the staff, pleading silently for the superhero to stop. Her entire body trembled, goosebumps covering every inch of her body. Her sighs came out ragged and broken. She looked - _pleaded_ \- as she looked into the eyes that had once been familiar, the pair of eyes were now filled with anger than love.

After a few ragged breaths, she saw realization dawn on the young leather-clad boy as he looked at the face of the criminal. The superhero's pupils dilated with horror and his breathing hitched, eventually exiting from the body as shattered breaths of disbelief. He looked into the cerulean eyes of hers with devastation as his grip loosened.

The baton fell down onto the ground with empty clanks.

Marinette finally raised her eyes from the empty baton to the feline eyes of her partner. "Chat Noir, I-"

Chat Noir broke into a run, gripping his baton and vaulting away from the scene of the crime.

* * *

On her walk home, she spotted the familiar shadow of the leather-clad hero, following her home yet still keeping his distance. She saw the familiar shadow now crouched on the rooftops from the comfortable distance of her window.

She was sure that he wasn't aware of her presence from the way she saw him stare emptily at her house as if he wasn't even there. He was empty, ripped apart, not thinking, not _feeling_.

The leather-clad hero must have eventually stood up from his position to go back home, as Marinette saw the next morning that he was gone.

* * *

The silver light became an even more frequent occurrence within the city as the days passed. What used to be once a day now happened twice, sometimes even three times. However, despite with such frequent appearances, some people began to notice that the silver light never appeared near Collège Françoise Dupont.

Some people began to speculate that the school was cursed, while some said the exact opposite. But whatever it was, people decided, the collège was somehow related to the silver light. Many theories were stated and argued, while Marinette was worried sick for her partner.

Meanwhile, Ladybug looked on with dread as Chat Noir no longer had the same gleam in his eyes. He looked… _dead_ , and she didn't know what to do. _What_ had spurred him to such action? _Why_ had he acted like that?

Most of all, what could she _do_ for him?

 _Nothing,_ she eventually realized one evening with a hopeless pang in her stomach. She couldn't help him, not without probing into something that she assumed was deeply personal for Chat. Not without jeopardizing her identity.

It pained her, knowing that her partner was crumbling right in front of her yet being powerless to stop it.

It didn't help that Adrien had now started actively ignoring her, going to far lengths so that he wouldn't even have to _talk_ to her.

* * *

After the incident, Ladybug noticed that Chat Noir was more reckless than ever.

* * *

As he descended down the stairs to head for another photo shoot after school, Adrien was forced to a stop by the red-headed journalist. She had her arms crossed and looked expectantly at Adrien, fists clenched. There was no backpack in her hand.

He raised a brow in confusion. Why was she angry? Had he done something to hurt her? "Alya, I'm sorry, but I need to," he began, pointing to his ride when-

"Why are you ignoring Marinette?"

He froze.

He couldn't tell her. He _couldn't_. How was he supposed to tell her that every time he looked into Marinette's eyes, he saw her eyes full of desperation, tears running down her cheeks and blood running down her chin as she shivered and silently begged for him to stop? That was only something that Chat Noir knew.

"I…" he breathed. His shoulders hunched, his eyes averting from hers. "I can't tell you."

When Adrien dared look back at Alya's face, he saw that she was _livid_. He winced inwardly.

"It's not her, is it?"

Adrien's eyes widened. "No, of course not!" he exclaimed. "It's just…" he looked down at his shoes. He sighed. "It's _me_. I'm a terrible person," he said, as he clenched his fists and bit his lower lip.

He willed the image of Marinette from that night to go away, but it clung to him.

As if it didn't punish him enough by appearing in his nightmares.

"Okay," Alya's voice became softer, but there was still an edge to it. He hoped that this meant that she was not mad at him. He opened his eyes.

Alya was still irritated, he noticed, but no longer fuming. He let out a sigh of relief. "But you better fix it," Alya threatened. "I will not have my best friend _devastated_ for something that she didn't even do."

Guilt rushed through his veins. Marinette was hurt because of him? "I… I'm sorry," he said, still unable to quite meet Alya in the eyes.

"Say that to Marinette," the anger was still in her voice. She walked towards him until she was finally side by side with him.

"Just because you're my boyfriend's best friend doesn't excuse you from being a jerk." The tension was palpable. He shuffled his feet. "Fix it."

He spent the entire car ride pondering how to do just that. None of his ideas were good enough.

* * *

Chat Noir planted the staff on the ground like he had done for the past two months. Maybe seeing the clouds again would clear his mind and help him figure out a way of apologizing to Marinette.

He had made his way to Marinette's bakery after he had been finished with the photo shoot, which was around seven PM. After he had eaten dinner at a table for twelve with only two prepared meals as the sole person there, he replaced his sadness from the vacant seat for guilt and dread that he had done _unforgivable_ things to Marinette. Alya was right - he had to apologize, both as Adrien and as Chat Noir. It was unfair and despicable of him to object her to such a gruesome experience and then just turn the other way and ignore her for three weeks.

And the faster he did it, the better it would be for Marinette.

But when he had seen Marinette leaning on top of her balcony, looking out with a forlorn expression, his nerves became over-racked with guilt. How was he supposed to apologize to her? Can one apologize for doing something as… horrible and gruesome as that? He was supposed to be a hero! What terrifying thoughts must he have subjugated Marinette to? She was an innocent, harmless, fragile civilian. (Well, he had seen her hold her own that night against criminals, which had been very impressive. But she was still a civilian. She couldn't take hits; she'd crack with just a hit from his baton.)

And then he had been a self-absorbed jerk and had ignored Marinette as Adrien. He had forgotten about her, save for the few moments when he saw her face and tried his hardest to not see it, not see her face. They weren't that close, what with the girl's stuttering problems, but he valued her as a friend and had only hoped that Marinette felt the same way.

With the way he had hurt her, he realized that the feeling was mutual - maybe _had been_ mutual, but he pushed that thought aside - and it sent him silently wishing that she hadn't reciprocated the sentiment at all in the first place. Then at least she wouldn't have been as hurt by him.

He would have certainly deserved it. He wouldn't have objected if Marinette no longer wanted to be friends with him.

His thoughts had consumed him, and he had… run away.

It was ridiculously childish of him, he knew. He was a hero, and he ran into danger every day. This shouldn't have been a problem.

But why was it that whenever a confrontation had nothing to do with fighting, he couldn't be as brave as he could be?

Why was he such a coward?

Why was he so _weak_?

He had never fancied himself as being incredibly brave or any of the sorts. No; just his encounters with his father proved otherwise in record time. But he always felt helpless and powerless whenever it was _not_ akuma related, and he _hated_ it. Despised it. Despised himself for being like that, for being so weak. So afraid of confrontation. Desperately needing everyone to like him, like a sad lost puppy. Not knowing _what to do_ when someone didn't like him, when _something_ had gone wrong.

He couldn't fight, so he had chosen flight.

Except, it wasn't flight. It was avoiding the inevitable. There was a huge difference.

He gripped his staff tighter. Why couldn't he be more like Ladybug? Why couldn't he be more like Marinette? Why couldn't he be more like _everyone else_? Why couldn't he be as _strong_ as them?

What made him so different like this? Why was he so _different_?

Before he knew it, hot tears ran down his mask, drowning his thoughts into an ugly combination of self-pity and hatred. After some of his thoughts had subsided, he stared off into the distance, thinking about nothing.

He cleared his mind of clutter, numbed his heart of pain, and pressed the button of his staff to extend himself upwards, to put him above his pitiful existence once again. He wished for nothing but the cold wind on his cheeks. He wished for silence, he wished for the dead kind. It would have been a breath of fresh air from his life.

His staff now extended upwards, upwards, and upwards, away from the pain, until-

"Chat?"

The beautiful and innocent blue haired girl with worried cerulean eyes saw him ugly, bruised, and battered.

* * *

Chat Noir looked at her with astonishment and incredulity. "Ma...Marinette?" he breathed. He looked down to meet her gaze, which sent him thoughts of that night again. With guilt sitting unpleasantly in his stomach, Chat averted his gaze, pushing the button once again to extend upwards.

He knew he was running away, he knew he would regret it once he got up there to gain an empty mind. But he couldn't stop himself. He _wouldn't_ stop himself.

 _Coward._

"Stop!" Marinette shouted. "Chat, I-"

He heard her but ignored her.

Until his staff leaned downwards and he face-planted into the concrete.

It hurt like hell.

"Ow," he grimaced. He grabbed his face with his right hand, groaning in pain.

Footsteps came closer. "Sorry!" a feminine voice squeaked. "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I-I didn't mean to - well, I did - but I didn't mean for you to get hurt! I mean, I should have thought about the consequences before I did it, but you-"

At the words, he chuckled. _What grand irony,_ he thought. _He_ was supposed to be the one saying those words, not her.

"A-are you okay?"

He broke into a full blown laughter at the words.

This… this was _ridiculous_.

 _Okay? That I am not._

"Y-yeah. I'm fine. The magic cushions the fall," he pointed towards his face to show his unbruised face to her. He tried a smile.

With the way she sighed in relief, he knew he had successfully deceived her.

"That's good," she smiled.

"To what do I owe this favor?" Chat said, wearing his bravado once again. He smirked.

Marinette frowned at this. "I heard you crying."

At the words, he froze.

"S-sorry," she apologized. But she smiled gently and continued. "If there is something wrong, you can come to me," she said. "N-not that you can't go to anyone else or anything like that! I mean, I think you can go to Ladybug but with the whole mystery identity thing going on, I don't know if you feel okay with… I mean, but that doesn't mean that I can, anyways too, and…" she sighed in frustration. "You can talk to me, Chat Noir. T-that is, if you want to talk."

Marinette stared at him with an intensity that Chat had never known she had. "I _want_ to help you."

At the words, warmth coiled his heart and enveloped it in a cocoon of light. He let out a relieved smile as Marinette blurred and then became clear, and then blurred and then became clear once again.

"Thank you." He knew he was saying the wrong words, but he couldn't help himself.

At the words, Marinette smiled gently at him, with such kindness. It warmed his frigid cold body that was worn with exhaustion and reminded him of a fireplace.

He wondered just what he had done to get such kindness.

"Let's get you some cookies and some hot chocolate. It is getting chilly, after all," she said, smile ever so radiant. "Meet me at my balcony? It's on top of the _Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie_."

He nodded.

He instantly felt colder when Marinette's gaze swayed away from his, but the cold was, somehow, no longer insufferable.

* * *

 _A/N:_ _Next chapter is a trip down fluff town!_

 _With so much of the angst focused here, I thought that it would be a nice break._  
 _It's going to be updated on Sunday at 6 AM Pacific Time (I have already finished writing the chapter. It's a lot easier that way for me.)_  
ALSO _, I will be updating half of Chapter Two on my Tumblr (hallythelantern) on Saturday so that people can get a sneak peek._

 _For those who are wondering about my other fics, A Red Candle is on indefinite hiatus because I have no idea how to use the prompts. I'll update when I find a way!_  
 _As for The Blue Rose, I wanted to start writing another fic first so that it could lead nicely. I have no set time for when I will release it. I apologize for the delay._

 _Thank you so much for reading! I hope you like the story so far!_  
 _I LOVE feedback of all types. I eat them for breakfast (deliciously)._  
 _(This story is also posted on )_


	2. Golden Lights

_A/N: Are you ready for THE fluff?_

 _But before that, I respond to your Guest comments!_  
 _Fifi_ _: Thank you! And as for someone recognizing Chat's baton, you'll find out soon :)_

* * *

With a plate of cookies and hot chocolate set aside on her bed, Marinette looked up at the trap door that led to the balcony.

She took a deep breath and sighed. This was it. She was going to, hopefully, find out what was bugging Chat Noir and help him solve it.

Half the battle was won, getting the chance to help him. Now she needed to win the other half.

She plastered on a welcoming grin as she opened the trap door and carried the plate in her right hand. Climbing with the left, Marinette set the plate aside when she finally reached the ground.

"Hey," she said gently as she climbed out. Chat Noir was sitting near the railing, looking out in the distance.

It was a shocking seriousness that she had never seen on the blond before.

He turned around to greet her with a small smile of his own. "Hey," he said. Although he tried to look reassuring and like himself, he didn't convince Marinette.

"I've got some cookies and hot chocolate for you," she said. She picked up the plate and headed towards the superhero. "I hope you're okay with chocolate chip," she said as she set the plate down near him.

"Of course. Thank you," he said, as he grabbed a cookie and accepted hot chocolate from Marinette. The tone of his voice made it seem like he was thanking her for more than just the food and drinks.

She smiled. "You're welcome," she said in the sincerest tone possible.

They ate in relative silence, enjoying and comforted by each other's presence.

When the pile of cookies was no more and the cups of hot chocolate were empty, she opened her mouth and closed it again. She then opened it and closed it again.

"So…" she began and was happy to see a contented Chat Noir looking at her in the eyes.

How should she start? Should she address the elephant in the room, that he had been breaking down in front of her and ask him what's wrong? No, she didn't think. She shouldn't do that, not right now. She had done once already, and he had frozen in terror.

Then should she ask about the mundane things, like the weather? She probably shouldn't ask how he has been as a conversation starter, because no one breaks down when everything is going fine. Should she ask why he was around here? But she doubted that the reason that he was around here wasn't related to the sensitive subject at hand. She had a hunch that it was related to the silver light, and by the silver light, she meant Chat's baton that had, looking back, been so obvious. How had she missed it? She was incredibly stupid.

She probably shouldn't ask if he was okay because it was clear he wasn't. This also meant that she couldn't address the recent urban legend, because it was clear Chat was the cause of the urban legend and it probably had to do with his condition right now. She probably couldn't address the night when he had protected her from the criminals, because she was sure that that was part of the bigger picture of what was going on with him.

Then, she remembered that he played Ultimate Mecha Strike III.

"Do you play any games?" Marinette asked.

Chat looked at her with a raised brow, clearly confused. "Yeah, I play Ultimate Mecha Strike III in my free time."

"That's great!" Marinette smiled. "Ultimate Mecha Strike III is my favorite game!"

Chat gave her a gentle grin. She still couldn't believe that this boy had almost blown a hole through a man's stomach that day. "Are you good?"

She snorted, trying for some semblance of much-needed normality. "Good?" her lips turned upwards into a smirk. "I'm one of the best."

He chuckled. "Really?" he said in a tone that sounded as if he believed it but pretended not to for some reason. That confused her, but it was better not to pry at this point. Especially when she had already done so enough.

"Of course. I represented my school at a gaming competition with a friend. We won first place!" she smiled. She hoped that she didn't sound full of herself.

He chuckled. "That's impressive," he said. "But how do we know if you're good? Maybe your friend was the one who was good." Something about the tone sounded teasing, as if he knew the truth but said the exact opposite to get a reaction out of her.

Oh, it was on.

She scoffed. "Why don't you find out for yourself?" she dared, standing up. "Let's duel."

* * *

"Whoo!" Marinette stood up from her seat, circling her hands back and forth in her victory dance. "I win again," she chuckled.

"Oh, no," Chat deadpanned. "I have been defeated yet again."

Marinette chuckled. "Now you understand which one was the better of the two?" she said playfully.

He chuckled and raised both hands. "I understand, master. You are the ultimate gamer in all of history."

She laughed. "Yes. Bow down to me, peasant!"

"Of course, your highness," he said, but did not move.

"You are not bowing down," she grinned, pointing out the discrepancy between his actions and his words.

Chat shrugged. "This is as far as I go."

Marinette chuckled. There was a momentary silence. "How about another round? Loser bows down to the winner?" she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

He chuckled. "I think I would like to win for once, Marinette," he said.

"Okay. Once you lose the next round, you can win."

Chat grimaced. "Me-ouch, princess. That's cruel."

"I call it just." She tapped her fingers on her chin for a few seconds. "And if we go back to your first conversation with me, you said something about a knight escorting a princess, did you not?"

"Yes..?" he was bewildered why she would bring such a conversation up.

"Well, it is the knight's duty to put the princess first and protect her at all costs, is it not?"

He created a frown to hide the grin that he felt underneath. He knew what was coming, although he didn't know why. He felt familiar and warm and nice here, for some bizarre reason that he couldn't put a finger on. "Yes, but that doesn't mean that the knight should have their pride mortally wounded for their duty."

Marinette laughed, tilting her head back. "All right," she said jovially. How about we team up?"

Chat nodded. "Sounds good."

They played, in all, for two hours. Marinette won all of the games, and in moments of sheer skill that only had him gaping at her in awe, he sometimes felt as if he was just being dragged along for the ride. But he put threw that thought away.

Something about the dynamic of the two, Chat Noir and Marinette - superhero and civilian, a boy drowning in darkness and a girl basking in the light - created a strange yet flawless teamwork. It was of the kind that could predict each other's movements and the next ten with just one movement, that was always able to defend each other whenever one had their hands full. For some odd and bizarre reason, she knew instinctively the way he worked and he immediately understood the way she worked. Chat decided that this was the kind of special teamwork that he had only seen in movies. It was an instant connection with whom he had considered to be more of a stranger to him (although he still considered her his friend): an anomaly, a mystery. In this moment alone, gaming with Marinette and defeating their enemies, he understood her as if he possessed the keys to the back of her mind, as if he had known her all along and had to only look at her closer to truly understand her.

They used this knowledge to their advantage without even thinking about it. It was as if working together was in their nature, as if they were both destined to game together in this wonderfully pink room of hers that smelled like cookies and bread and everything sweet. The thought brought a smile to his face as he fumbled with his controllers.

When he looked up at the clock to check the time, it was already ten thirty.

"Shoot, it's so late." He sighed, not wanting this to end but having to. "I have to go."

"Okay," Marinette smiled. "I'll be here again if you ever need a buddy." Something about the word made him think that Marinette meant more than just a gaming buddy. The thought brought a smile upon his lips.

"I might have to take up on that offer, then," he chuckled. "I like winning."

Marinette laughed. "You'll never lose with me," she said.

Chat smiled and walked to the ladder of the bed, with Marinette following closely behind. However, she didn't follow when he began climbing the ladder up.

He stopped midway.

"Can… can I come again tomorrow?"

He knew that it was overstepping bounds, and he hadn't even apologized to Marinette yet. But he didn't want it to end here; he couldn't end it here. He had had such a great time, and she was offering, so... "I-if you're free, that is."

Marinette smiled softly. "That would be wonderful."

* * *

He knocked on the trap door at nine exactly the next day. With a warm grin, Marinette welcomed him in, and after another plate of cookies and hot chocolate, they made their way to the computer where Ultimate Mecha Strike III was already displayed on the screen.

He grinned at that, and Marinette smiled back.

After half an hour of perfecting their teamwork even more from what it had been yesterday, Marinette and Chat Noir faced a strange sort of problem: because their teamwork was so flawless, they were literally unstoppable. They won every single match, and most were won within thirty seconds easily. There were some that challenged which they came out the other end victorious due to Marinette's quick thinking, but they were few and far in between. After another hour of defeating the enemy in less than ten seconds for the twentieth time, Marinette put her controller down.

"It's not fun anymore, with us winning everything," she groaned.

Chat Noir smiled at her. "Yeah. It isn't"

"Do you want to play any other games?"

He shrugged. "Nah. I'm fine."

She frowned. "Do you have any other hobbies?"

He raised a brow. "Not any that we can do right now."

"Okay," she said. "But do you have any?"

He raised a brow. "You want to hear about my hobbies?"

"Yeah! Obviously, you have a face underneath that mask."

He grinned. "Well, besides being a superhero, I fence and play basketball. I also play the piano."

Her eyes widened at that. "You? Piano? No way," she exclaimed.

He frowned. "What is wrong with me and piano?"

She shrugged. "Whenever I think of Chat Noir, superhero extraordinaire, playing the piano doesn't necessarily come to mind."

"Well, you judged wrong. Because for me, it definitely comes to mind."

She raised a brow in curiosity. "Is it something you're passionate about? Piano?"

"Hmm…" he thought for a moment. "Not...really?"

Marinette looked confused.

"It's just something that I do, I guess," he shrugged. "I like it enough that I wouldn't quit it, but it's not that important in my life, you know?"

Marinette frowned. Maybe she didn't know what that was like, Chat thought.

Now that was a thought.

"Then why did you start playing the piano?"

He shrugged. "Father wanted me to play it. Said it was sophisticated."

Marinette snorted. "Poor Daddy Chat Noir. You and sophistication don't go well together, you know."

"Hey!" he said indignantly. "I, too, am sophisticated!"

Marinette grinned. "Sure you are," she deadpanned, poking him in the chest.

Chat pouted. "That's cruel, Marinette. You wound me."

Marinette rolled her eyes, her smile betraying the truth. Her eyes shined with mirth. "It's just the truth." After a moment of thinking, she frowned, "You know, I have a friend who does fencing, basketball, and piano, too."

"Uh…" Chat Noir darted his eyes left and right in panic. "Do you really?"

"Yeah," she beamed. "What a coincidence, right?"

He laughed, tilting his head back. "Yeah. What a coincidence."

Oh, she had no idea.

After a curious raise of her brow, she pressed on. "Do you enjoy them? Fencing and basketball?"

"Yeah, I guess," he smiled.

"None are a passion of yours, though?" she said with a frown on her face in a way that suggested as if the idea was unfathomable.

"No. Unless you count superheroing as a passion, I don't have one."

Marinette's frown stayed a frown. "Not even gaming?"

He shook his head. "It's fun and good for passing time, but it's not like I have a lot of time to get really invested in it."

Marinette raised a brow. "You're busy?" she asked incredulously.

He chuckled and shrugged. Wow, she must have made so many assumptions about him. He could only guess what assumptions she made for Ladybug. "I guess you could say that. I usually have the entire day full with doing this or that until dinner, which is at around seven. I'm told to practice piano before I go to bed. I do my homework and then I may have an hour or two of free time after the piano."

Marinette said nothing.

"What? You didn't think I would be busy?"

She frowned. "Actually, yes," she said. The frown eventually morphed into a sheepish and apologetic grin. He immediately forgave her, although he didn't think she needed to apologize for that. "I thought that you would have every day free to go outside and get covered in mud and all that stuff."

Chat chuckled. "I'd like to do that." He smiled. "I have never done that before."

"You've never gotten covered in mud before? Not even as a child?" Marinette looked at him incredulously.

"Nope, never."

"But all children climb trees and play in the rain and fall on top of mud!"

Chat Noir's smile turned into a forlorn one. "Not this one. Father made sure that I stayed clear of anything that could dirty my clothes."

"Why? Did he do the laundry?" she was genuinely curious, he could tell.

He laughed at the strange question and accusation. "Goodness, no! I don't think I have ever seen him be around someone that looked less than impeccable."

Marinette frowned. "Is there something that you want to try? As a hobby?"

He thought for a bit. "I don't know. I have never really thought about it. How about you?" he asked, "what hobbies do you have?"

"Me?" Marinette asked. "Well, I game, I like gardening, and I love designing," she smiled.

"Design?" Chat said, perfectly knowing this already. But most people would be interested in knowing more about that, right? It was unique, and plus, he wanted to know more about how Marinette felt about designing too.

"Yeah! Like sketching and making clothes!"

"I never took you as the creative type," he grinned mischievously.

Marinette frowned. "Ha ha, very funny. I know you're just trying to get a reaction out of me, Chat." She frowned. "Wait… why did you think I'm creative in the first place?"

"Uh…" quick, think of something! When they had first met with the Evillustrator, Marinette hadn't done anything creative. And then, the next time they had met in Glaciator, they had talked about their heartbreaks but that wasn't necessarily creative or anything. So, he looked around his surroundings and thankfully saw scraps of fabric on the desk. He pointed to it. "You have fabric lying around. I assumed that you would be doing something with it."

Marinette's frown melted into a confused smile. "Okay." She still had skepticism written on her face.

"So," he began. "Seeing as how you love designing and you were talking about passion so much, is it? Is it a passion of yours?"

"Of course!" she beamed. "I love the entire process. You can make something so beautiful and so you just from a few pieces of fabric! I do it all the time, but it still baffles me how I could make such things come to life. I sometimes feel as if I'm not actually the one who has made it, if you know what I mean?"

He chuckled. He didn't, but the energy was infectious. "I'm guessing you want to keep doing it when you get older?"

"I don't think I can live without designing clothes," she chuckled.

"You do?" he said, surprised. The idea of not wanting to be free from the fashion industry and even more, being unable to imagine life without it from a person who was his own age, baffled him.

Marinette nodded vigorously. "Why wouldn't I? It's been something that's been only for me. And it's saved me so many times before."

He looked at her surprisedly. "Like what?"

Marinette smiled. "It's a secret," she said. Now that made him even more curious.

He pouted. "Come on, Marinette! Friends don't keep secrets from each other," or at least, that was what he was told growing up from movies. Although, now that he thought about it, they were all hypocrites. He was a hypocrite, too. But heroing didn't count, did it?

Marinette fumbled with her fingers. "It's something deeply personal to me. I don't think I have shared it with anyone other than my best friend."

At that, his shoulders deflated. "Oh. Okay," he tried to restrain his frown. He wanted to know more about his friend because she was an even more interesting person than he had thought. "Then I won't push," he said.

"Thank you."

They talked for the remaining time about the more mundane things, like school and such. Of course, Chat left the details out of his story to keep his identity a secret, but they talked about their chemistry class, what they read in literature, and the restaurants they each liked to frequent for lunch. They talked about the best parts of Paris they had gone to, and which monument was their most favorite. They argued about the topic for quite some time, until they both agreed to disagree and Chat looked at the time.

It was eleven thirty.

"Oh wow, it's already this time. I gotta go," he said. "Thanks, Marinette, for having me here," he smiled.

"No problem," Marinette smiled.

There was silence and no one dared move or speak. "Uh… is it okay if I come tomorrow too?"

Marinette's mouth opened.

"You-you don't have to! I just-"

"Of course."

* * *

Marinette smile morphed into a frown as she saw the trap door close behind the hero.

It felt… wrong to get to know Chat Noir, for some reason. Maybe it was because she had always viewed him as her quirky partner who had the power of destruction at his fingertips. Maybe it was because she didn't want her superhero life and civilian life to mix together.

But… she had wanted this, right? She had known that in order to help Chat Noir, she would have to know the causes of that, meaning that she needed to figure out what his life as a civilian was like. Because she doubted that he was having a problem because of his superhero persona. No, it was something personal to him.

Oh god, what was she doing? She didn't want to do that! Chat was her partner, and she knew that he had a life outside of being a superhero, yes, but she had never thought about the fact that he had a face underneath that mask too much until today.

But then again, she did want to get to know him. He was so… different from the person she had imagined, and her perception of him had been shattered within twenty minutes of conversing. She wanted to know her partner more as a person. He was her friend and her partner; refusing to get to know him sounded like a crime, a personal attack on him. And she did want to help him.

But, she was Marinette right now, not Ladybug, and Chat Noir was Ladybug's partner, not Marinette's.

But Chat Noir hadn't accepted Ladybug's help. She doubted that even if Marinette suggested Chat Noir to go to Ladybug, he would take her advice. Plus, that would be being a bad friend, passing off the responsibility to another person. Even if that person was herself.

What was she supposed to do?

* * *

He came the next day at nine with dvds in hand.

"What's that?" she asked.

"This?" he eyed the pile of DVDs he had. "I just thought that since we probably aren't going to play video games for two hours today, we should do something else. Like watching a movie or something," he beamed, until his facial expressions melted into a soft uncertainty. "T-that is, if you want to do them," he averted his gaze from her and then looked back up as if he was asking for approval. He munched his cookies in silence.

"Sure," she smiled."What have you got?"

At the words, he lit up. He was like a kid that got to see Christmas lights for the first time.

"Well, I have the Aristocats, Lady and the Tramp-"

"That doesn't have a single cat in it," she chuckled, crossing her arms.

He raised a brow at that. "It's still a good movie! And it's not like I need to make everything into cat puns."

"You don't?"

He gasped, putting a hand on his heart. "Princess! I'm offended!"

Marinette grinned, stifling her giggles with her arms. "I'm sorry. I apologize."

He nodded his forgiveness. "Anyways, continuing on before the princess so generously interrupted me," he teased. He laughed when he saw Marinette pouting. "I also have the Lion King-"

"Nor does that," she pointed out.

Chat rolled his eyes. "Lions are a member of the Felidae family, also known as cats. So, they are. Anyways, if the princess would be so kind, I also have Up-"

"What's with all these Disney and Pixar movies?"

Chat Noir gave a mock exasperated sigh. "And the Prince of Egypt."

"Prince of Egypt?! Why do you have that?"

"Hey! Don't offend the movie! It's a masterpiece. Just because it does not have cats does not mean that it isn't great. Also, the ancient Egyptians worshipped cats and regarded them as holy manifestations on Earth. Which they are." He stuck his chin up. "And, Whitney Houston and Mariah Carey sang the song together."

With this, she raised a brow. "I never took you as a fan."

"Who isn't?"

She shrugged. "Fair point. But why Disney?"

"Why not Disney?" he gasped dramatically. "They are family friendly and can be shown to people of all age and gender and backgrounds-"

"Chat."

He smiled sheepishly. He rubbed his nape. "I didn't know what kind of genre you liked, so I played it safe."

Marinette chuckled. "I like adventures and fantasies. And how about we watch Up today?"

He grinned. "Sounds great."

Marinette took the CD from her feline friend and fumbled with the computer, taking extra precaution that Chat Noir did not see the embarrassing collage of Adriens that was her wallpaper.

* * *

He turned himself around at the flicker of Marinette's wrist, which confused him. But he wanted to respect her privacy and maybe she didn't want him to see her password or something.

"Chat?" Marinette asked.

"Yeah?" Clicks were heard from the computer mouse, and Chat had to fight every muscle in his body to keep himself from turning around and looking at the computer. Just what was on the other end?

No. Curiosity killed the cat, after all.

But satisfaction brought it back….

"For the record, I also detest horror movies. I'm fine with everything else," she smiled. "Watching only fantasies can get boring, yeah?"

He let out a laugh.

* * *

They decided to use Marinette's chaise as a place to sit. After setting the movie up and ready to go, she dragged the chaise near the computer.

Or, at least, tried to. The chaise didn't budge.

She panted and gasped, shutting her eyes tight and putting her entire weight on the chaise but being unable to make it even budge.

The leather-clad superhero chuckled. "You want some help there?"

"It's" - inhale - "okay." -exhale- "I can," -inhale-"do this," -exhale as she walked to the front and put the back of her weight to the chaise. It didn't move an inch. "By," Marinette shoved it a little harder. "Myself," her legs moved faster than ever until it didn't and Marinette collapsed in exhaustion. "Ugh."

He chuckled as he walked closer to the struggling bluenette. When he was close to the chaise, he picked it with one hand and even did a bicep curl. He winked at her.

Marinette scoffed. "Show off."

Chat Noir laughed as he made his way to the computer and gently let the chaise down.

* * *

Movie night was a success. Both teenagers bawled their eyes out for a good portion of the first minutes of the film, and it became a pressing matter for Marinette and Chat Noir that they have tissues at hand. With a quick pause, she came back with a box full of tissues, and after a few blows on the nose, they were ready to watch the remaining of the movie.

* * *

"It… it's so beautiful," Chat Noir said as the credits rolled. "The message," he said, as he grabbed a tissue from the box between him and Marinette. "That-"

"He finds a new adventure to live for?" Marinette smiled.

He blew onto the tissue as an affirmative.

After a few seconds to calm down, he saw Marinette looking at him with an amused twinkle in her eyes.

"What?" he asked, frowning.

She smirked. "I never thought you to be the sentimental type."

"What, is that bad?" he asked, uncertain.

The smirk immediately melted into a smile with his words. "Not at all, minou. It's actually kinda cute, in a childlike way," she said, all smug. She pointed at his heart with her index finger.

"Hey!" he pouted, protecting the place she pointed at with his hands.

Marinette chuckled.

They talked more about the movies they had seen, which genres they liked and why, famous tropes that they hated (of which for Marinette, was the damsel in distress. Which made sense.), and somehow ended up talking about puppies, out of all the subjects. Chat kept trying to twist the conversation from puppies to kittens as he had a soft spot for them due to reasons that were obvious, but Marinette just chuckled while replying that he had carried a movie into her room that exclusively had dogs. At some point, he just gave up and listened to Marinette gush about wanting to have a puppy when she grew older. Oh, and a hamster.

Unfortunately, that was around the time Chat Noir had to go.

"Are you coming tomorrow, too?" Marinette asked.

"I-if that's fine with you, that is," Chat smiled sheepishly.

"Of course it is!" she beamed as if even the consideration of something else was preposterous.

With those encouraging words, Chat gave her a grateful grin and opened the trap door. "See you tomorrow then, Princess."

He left the warm and sweet smelling bakery once again, unable to shake off the grin in his face.

* * *

Over the course of a couple of days, Marinette began to notice that Chat became quicker with his movements and louder, even though they were only watching movies. He became more bombastic and excited, easily getting himself caught in strange random ideas midway through the film. He, for example, talked about how he wanted to spin plates when Lady and Tramp were having their spaghetti dinner. She laughed at that. He really was a hyperactive kid with an overactive imagination, she thought with a giggle, and the touch of subduedness that she had initially felt from him was completely thrown out the window as the days passed by.

It made her wonder what could lead such a bright and happy spirit to the complete breakdown that she had seen twice.

* * *

After they had run out of things to watch, Marinette and Chat moved onto board games and made their first devastating mistake in their newly formed friendship: they chose to play Monopoly.

While the more superficial part of their friendship, which consisted of getting to know each other better, was satisfied as Marinette told Chat stories of how she had loved dressing up as a policewoman as a child after Chat had had the misfortune of constantly getting stuck in jail (while Marinette cackled at the irony of a superhero ending up in prison so much), the trust in each other was steadfastly dwindling as Marinette stole property and money behind Chat's back. This was done only for laughs, however, and Marinette always returned the stolen property and money back to the feline superhero when he wasn't looking, but he also tried to return the favor by stealing some of Marinette's without much success. Thus, Marinette guarded her own with a ferocity that he had never seen in the young designer, and he, fearing for his life, had eventually given up on revenge.

(He found out, soon enough, that Marinette was savage in anything that was related to winning. It also helped from Marinette's point of view that Chat had trouble keeping track of his own property and money, as he rarely organized the paper money or cards and mostly left them in two giant piles.)

He was aware that Marinette occasionally took advantage of his lack of organization, however. As the game went on, he became more focused on perfecting his organization skills than actually winning the game in fear of losing everything he had and somehow ending up being stripped bare - literally. (Marinette as a force to be reckoned with; even though he was a superhero in a magical costume, he wouldn't have been surprised if Marinette found a way around it. He didn't want to test his theory, either.) He had long accepted defeat after his fifth time landing in jail.

However, strangely the game still did not cease, and Marinette and Chat exchanged funny stories with each other as they landed on boardwalks, and railroad tracks and everything in between. Marinette told Chat of her walks on a boardwalk near the beach with her family, and he listened in fascination as she described in detail a day of sandcastles so big that a young Marinette could live in it, a young Marinette eating too many desserts to the point her stomach got sick, and roller coaster and fireworks. He, in turn, told her stories of every train ride he had practically been on (and he had been on a lot, what with his career) and the strange people he saw.

And when he described in depth what they had worn and how they had acted, throwing in reenactments for humor, Marinette laughed so genuinely and sincerely that it startled him.

He had never seen anything like it, the kind of unrestrained mirth that she showed just then.

To him, witnessing Marinette's laugh was like learning to breathe for the first time: bizarre, different, and strange, yet at the same time so natural and obvious. It was so free, so childish. Recklessly brave, even. Yet at the same time, it was supposed to be here in his life, to be with him. He was destined to return the same favor, be with her, laughing and understanding her and being on the same page the way they had done when they had been gaming.

Thus, he laughed like he had never done before, in the freest way without a care. It wasn't at all like the schedules and routines in his life, and he loved the exhilaration he felt from the unrestrained laugh. It was so free and safe and natural. He didn't care whether his father would approve or whether it would be suitable for the consumption of the general population when he did this one. Whether he was plastering on the right one so that people would like him. No. This laugh was his and his alone, witnessed by only the few and those of a world private to him, of which had a certain blue-haired girl now inhabited.

With the wordless moment of mirth between Marinette and Chat Noir, he was able to just exist, and it was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

It made him feel valued, even maybe important. How long had it been since he had felt like that?

As he grasped his stomach desperately from laughing too hard, he wondered just what he could do for Marinette that could possibly pay her back for everything she had done for him. Maybe he'd be paying back for his entire life, he reasoned, but unlike most lifelong commitments of his, he found that he wasn't even the least bit wary of the idea. It was the complete opposite, actually.

She made him happy and he loved being around her company. Being her friend for the rest of his life sounded like one of the best gifts in the world.

So when he said, "thank you," after some of the humor had settled down but none of the mirths, he had truly meant it. Only a few moments later, he became ecstatic at the sudden realization that he had found something - someone - extraordinary in his life.

* * *

Somehow, two hours was not enough for Marinette to win the game, and so they continued to play the game for three more days until Chat was bankrupt. Luckily for the both of them, they agreed to end Monopoly there.

However, nothing had ceased and everything was only just beginning. Chat was sure of it.

* * *

At around this time, the people of Paris began to notice that the occurrences of the silver light had dwindled drastically. What used to be two or three times in one day was now only happening once every two or three days or so. And, they had begun to notice, the silver light no longer appeared after sunset. What had caused such drastic changes was heavily debated among the Parisians, and Marinette could only chuckle at some of the more outlandish theories that had begun to gain traction.

* * *

After days of doing board games and card games and watching cat videos on YouTube, maybe Marinette shouldn't have been surprised to hear that Chat wanted to go outside with her. But when the opportunity presented itself, she was.

"A princess shouldn't be cooped up inside her tower," he said. "She should be outside for her subjects to admire her beauty."

With an affectionate roll of her eyes, she said, "Okay, silly cat," and made her way to the balcony, Chat behind her.

"Where are we going?" she asked when she was out of the trap door.

"It's a secret," he winked. She frowned.

He lent out a hand for her. She only looked at it.

"You trust me, right?" he asked.

"Of course I do," she said without missing a beat. "But-"

He lent it out again. With a sigh, she took it.

He led her to the end of the railing and crouched down, hands out expectantly. She climbed onto his back, putting her arms around his neck.

"You'll love it," he smiled. "Trust me."

"Okay," she hummed as she dug into his back a little bit more. She decided that it was quite snug and warm and nice.

However, that was ruined as soon as he took off.

* * *

They found a corner in between buildings that was partially lit by the street lights. It was not too far from the bakery, Chat supposed, and was good enough for the purpose.

"Chat?" Marinette asked with uncertainty. "What are we-"

Before she could object, Chat pressed the button on his baton and up they went.

Marinette screamed as she buried her head in his neck. "Chat, what are you-" her eyes widened with realization. "You… you're going to…"

"Hold on tight, princess," he said with a playful smile. "It's quite a fall if you don't."

To find out for herself, Marinette ducked her head underneath and scanned the ground. Chat knew that it was not too far down, judging from how long he had been extending the baton, but it was far enough down that falling from such a height was a one-way ticket to heaven. Or hell.

Her head came back up and snuggled into his back with a shivering in her body.

He smiled apologetically, although she couldn't have seen it.

They stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity.

"We're here, princess," he said gently. The staff no longer extended. "You can open your eyes now."

At the words, Marinette's neck began moving. It moved sideways first and then up, where it stayed like that for some time.

"Wow…" she said with awe in her voice. Chat smiled at that. But when her neck was faced down, Chat heard her breath hitch.

"This is… beautiful."

"Why aren't you looking, Chat?" Marinette said with curiosity and confusion evident in her tone.

"I only look up," he said matter-of-factly.

"But the view is so wonderful down there. It's… miraculous."

Chat chuckled. "Are you trying to make a pun now, princess?"

Marinette pouted. "No. I didn't mean to. But you should really look down. It's so beautiful, what with the Eiffel Tower glowing in the light," she beamed. "And oh! There's my house!" she pointed. "You have to see, Chat. It's so pretty, and you always come here but never actually see it? That's so sad."

"Sad? Why would that be sad?"

She smiled at him warmly. "Because you're missing out."

How strange, he thought, that the touch of the small, vulnerable civilian - who is now hanging onto my neck for dear life - could feel so strong.

The thought sent warm tingling sensations into his stomach that made him giddy in an entirely different way from whenever he'd tested the limits of his baton.

Knowing that she wouldn't take no for an answer, he eventually acquiesced and looked down. He breathed carefully in and out to relieve the stress and anxiety that he had accumulated from all his time up here. He finally opened his eyes slowly to see…

Paris.

Constellations of golden lights all flowed into a central focal point of what was the Eiffel Tower, while lights of different shapes and sizes flowed outward. It was as if the Eiffel Tower was the heart, connecting to anything and everything all at once. And while he noticed that some buildings had no light and thus looked as if the tower had skipped over it, reminding him for some reason of a child playing hopscotch that he had seen in a movie once before, this gap, rather than making that specific area seem dismal and empty, somehow made the scene look perfectly natural and not as if it needed to be filled. It didn't need to be filled, it seemed to say. It looked perfectly beautiful without the light. It just was, and there was beauty in being not filled as much as there was in being filled. It was a sort of perfect harmony, that incorporated both darkness and light to make something truly bigger than the two alone.

Then he noticed that the hopscotch lead to the golden river on the streets that were overflowing with the said light. He briefly wondered if he could ever see the same light when he was down there.

He didn't know what about the scene made it that way, but witnessing it felt so profound. It was as if this one of the most important moments of his life. And while he didn't know what it meant, that didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy the view.

"Wow…" he breathed. "It's breathtaking."

Marinette beamed.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

He took a moment to respond. "It is."

She giggled. "Good."

They stayed like that for a minute or two, admiring the beauty of the city they could call their own.

"Thank you," Marinette said, warmth evident in her words as Chat pressed the button on his baton slowly. "For this."

Chat shook his head. "No. Thank you."

As they descended onto the streets of Paris, Marinette's touch felt potent to Chat.

* * *

When they got back to the bakery, they celebrated by watching a movie. Marinette and Chat Noir sat side by side on the chaise, shoulders and head touching midway through.

* * *

 _A/N: Next chapter will be_ _updated on Sunday at 6 AM Pacific Time  
_ ALSO _, I will be updating half of Chapter Three on my Tumblr (hallythelantern) on Saturday so that people can get a sneak peek._

 _Thank you so much for reading! I hope you like the story so far!  
_ _I LOVE feedback of all types.  
_ _I eat them for breakfast (deliciously). So thank you so much for those who have been feeding me!_

 _(This fic is also posted on AO3)_


	3. Canoe Ride

_A/N: Fluff AND Angst! What more could you want?_

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Canoe Ride**

The next day, Chat came through the trap door to see Marinette hunched over her desk, writing on a piece of paper that he recognized as today's literature homework.

This was the first time that he had seen her do anything that wasn't waiting for him, he realized, and he immediately felt guilty and grateful for the time that Marinette dedicated towards him.

"The cookies and hot chocolate are by the computer," she said, pointing with her pencil in the general direction. Then she quickly flicked her pencil back to the paper.

Chat jumped onto the floor with a soft _thud_. "You're not going to eat any?"

She shrugged. "I'll eat after I finish this,".

"Speaking of, what are you working on?"

"My French literature homework. I'm falling behind, I have to write fifteen pages, and the essay's due the day after tomorrow." She gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry, _minou_ ; I can't hang out today. But you're welcome to stay if you want to."

 _She's behind because of me,_ he thought as guilt stabbed his stomach.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked. "Maybe your school and my school's curriculums overlap."

She shook her head. "I'm at the writing stage now, so all I have to do is to get my thoughts written down on paper. Thanks for the offer, though."

At that, Chat looked around for quiet things to do while Marinette was working. After finishing two more cookies, he decided to grab a pair of headphones and watch some movies.

It felt strange to him, sitting on the computer chair rather than the chaise. It was like he was missing something - _someone_.

But it still felt better than being alone in his room.

After the credits rolled, Chat exited the screen and turned off the computer with a sigh. He pushed the chair out, darting left and right for more things to do, when he spotted Marinette still crouched down, pencil scratching at the paper. The light from her lamp illuminated the sweat on her forehead as the sweat ran down her forehead to her cheeks and traversed diagonally down her face. It reached her tongue, which was stuck out in concentration.

Marinette sputtered in surprise as the liquid touched her tongue. Chat whipped his head back in laughter, clutching at his stomach and wheezing at the lack of air. She, in response, turned towards him with an indignant expression.

"S-sorry," he wiped his tear. "I-I just didn't expect your reaction. It was _hilarious_."

After what seemed like an eternity of glaring, Marinette whipped her face away from him and muttered the words "stupid cat" under her breath.

It turned out that observing Marinette work was far more entertaining than all the movies he had watched _combined_. There was just something about it, from the way her tongue stuck out in concentration to the way her eyes darted back and forth with a slight frown on her lips to the way she tapped the end of the pencil with her lips whenever she was stuck and from the way she bit her lips in frustration to the subsequent gleam of absolute ecstasy and exuberance in her eyes that was just highly entertaining to him. He memorized every one of her expressions while he watched her work and told himself that it was only for comedic purposes.

The day after, Marinette noticed that Chat brought _his_ homework with him to her room the next day. They worked next to each other in relative silence, save for the occasional snickers from the feline superhero. When she looked in his general direction at the odd sounds, he reenacted the facial expressions she had made. He did it in the most ridiculous way possible. She scowled every time, but this just made him laugh harder. So, with a resigned sigh, she ignored his snickers and cackles and worked until she had nothing to work with.

She braced herself internally for the hell called Chat's teasing that would follow.

After a few days of playing board games (that weren't Monopoly) and doing homework, the two fell into a comfortable agreement with each other. They didn't always feel the need to do something together and left the other alone when they were busy, but nevertheless appreciated each other's company when they could.

And today, Marinette and Chat sat side by side watching My Neighbor Totoro. Their heads and shoulders were not touching like it had been after they had gone to see the lights, but each found warmth from each other's presence.

When Satsuki - a ten year old girl - and Mei - Satsuki's four year old sister - first arrived in their new home, Marinette was suddenly reminded of the night that all of this had started after Satsuki almost broke a pillar and had to balance it right again using her body.

As the sounds of giggling girls permeated the room, she took the chance.

"Chat?" she asked.

"Yeah?" he said gently. He was smiling.

"You know the day when I had seen you near the bakery?"

There was a pause. "Yeah?" his smile turned neutral as he looked at her warily, evidently on guard.

"D-" she began, but paused for far too long. "Do you want to talk about it?" she breathed. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Satsuki and Mei began running outside, giggling and laughing with hands out like an airplane.

There was silence. His eyes were glued on the screen. "No. I'd rather not." There was sadness, there was bitterness, and there was _rage_.

The tension was palpable. "O-okay."

She turned her eyes back to the movie, occasionally looking from her peripheral vision to see Chat's face. He, thankfully, was happy throughout most of the movie, although she saw glints of sadness from time to time.

After the credits rolled, Chat surprised her once again when he pleaded with her to go outside with him.

"Marinette, let's go outside!" he said, jumping up and down. He looked up at the trapdoor and at her expectantly.

"Outside where?" she asked, a brow quirked up. She looked at the trapdoor to follow his line of sight.

"Anywhere," he beamed. "It doesn't matter!"

"But we should have a plan. We don't want to wander around just about anywhere. It's late," she said, pointing to the clock. It was eleven.

"Okay. Then you choose!"

Her eyes widened. " _Me_?"

He nodded enthusiastically.

"But where can we go at such a time?"

He shrugged.

She frowned.

The two stayed like that for a minute.

She finally sighed. "Okay. Maybe we can look around for something to do outside."

He beamed. She gave him a tired, but nevertheless still satisfied, smile.

Marinette held onto Chat's neck tightly as he vaulted across Paris looking for something fun to do. He looked down at the buildings elatedly, mirth and ecstasy evident in his eyes. She giggled.

She had almost let go of his neck when he came to an abrupt stop. "Chat?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, eyes glistening with excitement. He pointed to the general direction of a playground. "Let's ride the swings!"

She acquiesced easily, a smile evident on her face.

Chat made his way to the swings with a bounce in his step, Marinette closely behind him.

"Push me!" he said as soon as he sat down. She chuckled and relented.

With the push from Marinette, Chat was off.

It was, surprisingly, quite different from jumping from rooftop to rooftop with his baton. He had thought that it would be similar, what with the temporarily airborne thing going on. With the swing, he felt as if he had no real control over the whole movement, and he could not control how far and high he could go. Even when he was moving his legs as fast as possible, there just were limits on the swing of how far it could go. And if he added any pressure to it, he was sure that he was going to break the chains of the swing from how much force he applied to them.

Ever since he was little, he had dreamed about the swings. His mother, ever perceptive, had, one day, seen him look longingly at a mother pushing a child on the swing while he was being hauled off to a photoshoot. In response, she had created space in the big Agreste house and installed a swing on the tree. The tree, with the wooden swing in its branches, had looked so different from the clean cut, cold business-like layout of the mansion. It looked as if it was a foreigner, an alien in a crowd of familiars.

It was this lack of belonging that irresistibly attracted Adrien to the swing yet also made him hesitant towards it. On the one hand, it was what Adrien wanted to be: natural, earthly, and alive. However, it was also at the same time the exact opposite of his father and what his father wanted from him. His mother had also subtly encouraged him to be more like his father in the effort of keeping the peace, and as a result, Adrien had learned how to be stiff, businesslike, and professional. As the number of photoshoot bookings grew, Adrien found himself abandoning the swing altogether, even trying once to remove the swing from the tree itself. He had failed, however, held back because of his stupid, irrational mind, he had told himself back then. The swing on the tree was now unused for close to eight years, only collecting dust.

Maybe it was because of these memories that Adrien _desperately_ wanted to ride the swing once again. Now that one of the most important people in the world to him, who accepted all his quirks with a smile and even encouraged it, was the one pushing him on the swing, maybe it would be different. Better, somehow. Entirely wonderful, warm, and embracing, just like all those other times that he had been with Marinette.

It wasn't.

Instead, he felt a strange emptiness inside him, a void that seemed to never be satiated even as Marinette pushed him higher and higher. He tried a smile and a laugh every time he was up on the swings, but it all came out wrong to him.

I-it was not supposed to _be_ like this, it wasn't supposed to _feel_ like this. He was supposed to feel _happy_ here with Marinette, remembering all the times he had laughed with his mother as she pushed him on the swing. He was supposed to be _revisiting_ the pleasant memory with a new person in his life, not _killing_ it. He was definitely _not_ supposed to be feeling helpless and hopeless as the swing rose and fell with his body.

"Chat?" Marinette asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Are you alright?"

"Huh?" he said with sadness still evident in his tone. However, he quickly snapped out of his miserable mood, trying on a cheery tone. "Yeah! Of course. This is the best fun I've had in a long time!" he said, chuckling. The sounds hurt his heart.

Unfortunately, the blue haired girl did not buy it. She stopped pushing. She frowned.

"What's wrong, Princess?" he grinned. "Does her highness want a push from her loyal knight?" he waggled his eyebrows.

"Chat," she said in a serious tone.

The sound jolted him.

Her frown melted into a sympathetic smile, however. "You know that you can talk to me about anything, right?"

The words made his throat tighten as he fought off the tears in his eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying on a happy tone but ultimately wavering. "I'm _okay_ , princess. Really," he croaked the word, and his voice cracked at 'really'. His smile was trembling.

Her eyes were gentle, caring, and comforting. "It's okay to feel sad, Chat."

He couldn't fight anymore.

After an embarrassing crying fit in front of his princess, Chat now felt better. He didn't feel happy; no, not by a long shot, and he didn't feel the void being filled. But, it was no longer in pain, and maybe that was what counted.

He looked up at Marinette, who was still smiling gently through it all.

He didn't get it. He had ruined her shirt with his tears and dirty snot and had ruined this night with her. He had done nothing but demand her time, barging into her space and room and stealing cookies and hot chocolate from her. He had been terrible to her, he had been entirely selfish, he _was_ still being selfish. But she was still there, comforting and embracing him. Making him feel better. Petting his hair in the way that made his chest rumble, soothing him with sweet nothings that tingled his ears, and practically allowing him to dirty her shirt.

He didn't get it.

"Why?" he whispered to her.

She looked expectantly at him.

"Why are you so nice to me?"

She smiled. "Because you're my _friend_."

That word, that sentence, was the one that sent daggers into his heart, making him cry and dirty his beautiful princess's clothes yet again.

After Chat calmed down, Marinette suggested that they both ride the swings _together_ instead of one just pushing the other.

With the way Chat had looked genuinely happy, looking like himself again, laughing and giggling and chuckling in the unrestrained way she had grown fond of, she hoped that she was right in thinking that she had made him happy again.

It was not everything that he could have wanted to replace his melancholic childhood. It did not induce any old memories, pleasant or unpleasant. It did not make him feel like the most important person in the world, it did not make him feel happy. But it also didn't make him feel like a freak, it didn't make him feel empty, it didn't make him think _anything_. And that was better than what he had had.

This- _this_ was entirely new, something that was not written as an addendum to an already finished book but was the first page to the first chapter of a new book. Instead of adding onto an already finished volume, Marinette was writing a sequel to his life. Instead of looking expectantly at the past, this moment was for the future - _their_ future - and Chat found himself enjoying it.

"Good Evening, Princess!" Chat said cheerfully the next day.

Marinette's lips quirked into a smile as she put down her pencil. "Hey, Chat," she turned around.

"What are you working on?"

"It's my entry for the _Gabriel_ competition," she smiled.

"The one you won with the pigeon hat last year?"

She quirked a brow, turning around to see the leather-clad superhero. "I'm surprised you know so much."

"I tend to be updated on the latest fashion trends," he chuckled.

She quirked another brow. "You are?"

He nodded with amusement.

She was impressed, although she didn't like how he seemed to be clearly be in on an inside joke that she did not know about. "You surprise me every time, Chat Noir."

At this, he looked confused. "I do?"

She chuckled. "Yeah."

"So," he said, leaning closer, "what exactly are you making?"

"I'm supposed to design a gown. The winner gets to create their design at _the Gabriel_ with _professionals_!" she squealed. "And! _And_ they also get to wear it to _Paris Fashion Week_!" she let out a dreamy sigh. "Just imagine! Maybe I'll be able to get someone's attention there, and they'll give me a card and ask me to call them up, and then I'll stay in contact with them the _whole_ time all the while I, hopefully, get an internship at Gabriel! Maybe they'll be enemies with each other, and they'll want me so bad that they give me a wonderful opportunity that I _can't_ pass out on! And then this would be a problem, because I'll have to abandon the current position that I know for no doubt that I would love _so much_ , but I would have to do this to learn more about the fashion industry from a different perspective, and-"

She was cut off by the chuckle of a certain leather-clad hero. "Careful, Marinette," he said with amusement in his eyes. "one step at a time."

She breathed through her nose in and out slowly. "You're right," she said, slapping her cheeks. "Stay focused," she said, rolling her body towards the desk so that her chair faced the sketchbook. "I got this," she said, convincing herself.

For the next three days, Chat did his homework, watched videos, and played games, entertaining himself quietly while Marinette was working. She said that she had had no time to work on them beforehand due to other obligations of hers, and was now playing catch up to everything. Perhaps because he felt very guilty and also because he was a good person who respects other people's need to work when they need to, Chat left Marinette to take care of her work. He occasionally chatted with her while she was taking a break from designing or doing homework, but they were few and far in between. One of the things that Chat had learned from the last couple of days had been that once Marinette got in the zone, she rarely got out of it.

So when Marinette suddenly began grasping her hair and messed it up in frustration, he knew that there was something wrong.

"Princess?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

She sighed in frustration. "This-this isn't working! The skirt length is wrong, the ruffles are wrong, the the patterns are too big, the entire _shape_ is wrong! I-" she sighed. "I've been working on it for the past three days, and it feels like the more I work on it, the more I mess up." She sighed. Her elbows, which had been laying down on the desk, now stood upright and her palms covered her face. "What was I thinking?" she sighed. "There is no way that I would even be close to winning." He frowned at that. "Maybe I should just… not enter this year."

He stood up. "You mean, you're just going to give up?"

She shrugged. "It's better than giving a haphazardly done piece that could ruin my career."

He walked towards her, putting his hand on her shoulders. Her eyes instantly met his. "Princess, if there is anyone who deserves to win that contest, it's _you_. So don't beat yourself up like that," he frowned.

Her frown curved upwards. Just a little bit.

"You're super talented and super dedicated to your work. There is no way that you would be 'nowhere close to winning'. You just need to believe in yourself," he smiled. "And maybe get some more inspiration or two."

He felt an odd sense of déjà vu, but he didn't know why.

He decided that it didn't matter.

Marinette smiled. "Thanks, Chat."

"At your service," he grinned, bowing.

She stretched on the chair, giving a slight tug, and bounced out of the chair. "Are you ready?"

He looked at her in confusion. "Ready for what?"

She grinned mischievously. "Looking for inspiration, of course."

They decided that it would be best if they stay away from the bakery, in fear that Marinette's parents see them. While Marinette's parents seemed like nice people, Chat didn't want to stretch his limits with them. And escorting their only daughter at midnight through the streets of Paris seemed likely to be one of those.

Chat chuckled to himself whenever he saw Marinette getting lost in her thoughts with her ever hungry desire for inspiration. She even looked at a _traffic cone_ in the way that reminded him of the famous statue called The Thinker.

She looked at everything mundane and banal as if it held the keys to the universe, as if there was something more truly profound there if one just looked underneath the surface. Seeing her bite her lips when deeply thinking, looking at something as banal as a crack in a wall while mumbling about the cost of the fabric and whether or not it would look good with buttons brought a smile upon his lips. Interestingly, when something moved, she would turn with it, and she would go about on her way again, scouring the most random and inconspicuous of places for the best designs of Paris. This neck turn happened too many times for him to regard it as a simple coincidence, and he smiled mischievously at learning such strange information about her.

"Chat, look!" she said, pointing to the streets. "There's a funny looking penguin doll on top of the taxi cab!"

And indeed, there was a blue penguin doll that threatened to overtake the sign of the yellow taxi cab. She giggled.

He grinned.

They strolled down the streets side by side. There was a strange familiarity to the way they walked with each other, a perfect synchronization that had to be either innate in both of them or practiced too many times to count. But something about it was different from the other times he had felt this before, with, admittedly, Ladybug. They were all business, him and Ladybug, despite him wanting to bring some levity into the dynamic. Therefore he didn't think he could get this comfortable with the superheroine called Ladybug, the human manifestation of good will, good luck, decisiveness, and power. No; while there was a strong resemblance in the way they walked physically and physically with him, the resemblance ended there.

With Marinette, everything was brighter in a way that wasn't overt. It was, actually, more subtle that had to do with the way she moved, talked, and touched.

If Ladybug was a roller coaster ride that could speed his heart up and down whenever she flirted back at him and rejected him within two seconds, Marinette was a slow trip on a canoe.

She made movies more heartwarming, more gut wrenching, and more fantastical, without really doing anything but just _being_ there. She played video games in a way that made it seem like the game required the utmost skill to even _play_ , and he had never loved board games as much as he did after playing it with her. She somehow made the cats in his cat videos sound cuter when she was watching, made the comedies and parodies more outlandish than they were supposed to be, and the chaise more comfortable when she was sitting with him. Hell, she even made _walking_ more fun for him. She made even the flickering lights of the damaged street signs, the half-abandoned corn field that was starting to be overtaken by weeds, and the silent hum of a sleepy neighborhood feel melodic and harmonious, pleasant and positive and never jarring to the ear.

She was the soothing herb to Ladybug's drug: when Ladybug raised his highs, Marinette raised his lows.

Marinette wasn't his love, yes, but she was just as, if not more important than, Ladybug to him.

It was remarkable how fast she had made herself at home in his heart.

"Marinette?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask how you first got into designing?"

She quirked a brow at him.

"I-if you don't mind, that is," he scratched his nape, averting his gaze.

He heard a smile. Then a chuckle.

He looked back at her, half in curiosity and half with expectations

"You know, it's funny," Marinette began to say. "When I first started, it was more of a fascination. Grandma used to knit, and Maman also did some sewing. They suggested it to me enough times that I accepted. But," she chuckled. "I wasn't the person who immediately knew that I was destined to do this when I first picked up the needle." That was surprising to him. Realizing his surprise, Marinette smiled at him. "I was just a girl who got one too many pricks from the needles she used, and I remember I gave it up altogether when I accidentally made a huge gash on my finger," she said, holding out her index finger. There was a white line that cascaded down. "But when I said that I would never make something beautiful to Maman, she said to me, 'But Marinette, you have made such progress! It would be a pity to give up on it when you clearly care so much about it,'" Marinette smiled softly at that. She sighed in content. "She and Papa was always there, cheering me on the entire time. It felt like it would be offensive of me to stop doing it, and before I knew it, I was creating something that I was genuinely proud of."

"Did you think to become a designer from then on?" he asked.

Marinette chuckled. "No. I remember I was terrified and didn't submit my designs for competitions back when I was in my first year of collège. I ended up regretting it though, and so did everything in my power the second year to do my _absolute_ best. I ended up winning second place," she beamed. "Maybe that was when I realized that I couldn't live without designing," she said with a fondness that he usually reserved for his mother.

"And you won that _Gabriel_ contest the year after," he grinned.

Marinette chuckled. "Yeah. The final year of collège was _the_ luckiest year of my life."

He smiled. "And you're going to win this one, too. I'm sure of it."

She giggled. "Thanks, _minou_. I'll try my best," she promised.

She ultimately chose the half-broken street sign as her inspiration.

The next day, Chat had been exhausted from a photoshoot, a fencing lesson, and an akuma attack on the same day. As a result, he had gone straight to Marinette's after he had finished dinner and fell asleep on her chaise.

When he woke at one thirty, he was surprised to see a Marinette, snoring away on her desk, with her pencil still in her hand as she mumbled through her drool-covered lips about buttons. He picked up the young woman's delicate yet strong body and loosened the grip of her fingers on the pencil. He then, wary of causing any too harsh movements that would wake her up, tiptoed up her bed, placed her down, and tucked her in. Immediately, she leaned towards the side that he was sitting in.

Her face looked incredibly peaceful and devoid of stress. He smiled at that; Marinette had not been getting enough sleep recently due to all the work she put upon herself (one of which was taking care of a stray, he grimaced), and he had hoped that she wouldn't be getting permanent worry lines because of this. Hopefully, he was still, and was always going to be, right. Worry lines and frowns did not belong on her; ones born from smiles did.

He slid his finger through her locks, brushing against the bangs back and forth, back and forth.

Something about the gesture soothed him and made him want to be soft, as if Marinette's gleaming hair could be destroyed with only the slightest false movements. He was wary, he was gentle, he was careful, and he could feel a tingling sensation in his body that he wasn't sure came from the touch of her silky hair on his fingers or the steady thrumming of his heart.

He got up, the warm sensation slowly dripping away from him. It was now irredeemably late and he had to get back to his house.

However, he still, somehow, wasn't cold; his heart still beat steadily and, most importantly, he felt power coursing through his body like it had never done before

It was as if he had been granted an elixir to a magical illness that he hadn't known he had had, let alone even _existed_ , but once it had been found, it had been the perfect cure for his condition.

"Sleep tight, princess," he said with affection evident in his tone and exited through the trap door.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you_ _so much for reading! I hope you like the story so far!_

 _I LOVE feedback of all types.  
_ _I eat them for breakfast (deliciously). So thank you so much for those who have been feeding me!_

 _(This fic is also posted on AO3)_


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